


Case File #03201145078

by RobinsonsWereHere



Category: Psych
Genre: Everyone whump, F/M, Lassie is a Concerned Bro, Shules, Whump Fic, casefic, established shules, gus is a good friend, henry is also Protective, i tagged this graphic depictions of violence for a reason, it's gonna get pretty dark, karen vick is the closest thing there is to an omniscent being, set ambiguously late season 5, shawn and juliet are trying to out-protect each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-14 22:37:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18061499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinsonsWereHere/pseuds/RobinsonsWereHere
Summary: Page 1 of 32Case No. : 03201145078Lead Officer: Det. Lassiter, CPrime Suspect: Stroud, ErmesCharges: Money Laundering, Tax Fraud, Bribery, Kidnapping, Torture, Murder (1st, 2nd degree- 3 counts), Assaulting an Officer (2 counts)Notes:01/09/11 ES taxes don’t match. His money is most likely dirty. [CL]01/10/11 ES is definitely paying off the politicians who just dropped out of the race. [CL]01|12|11 Stroud’s financial advisor reported missing. Several dummy accounts SBPD had been tracking now closed. Probably not a coincidence. [JO]01/15/11 ES Financial Advisor found dead, signs of torture. No such thing as a coincidence. [CL]01|16|11 Now investigating Stroud’s ‘security team’. All have redacted records. Probably capable of kidnapping/torture/murder. [JO]





	1. Assaulting an Officer (2 counts)

The January breeze was chilly, but the sun was shining in the cloudless blue sky. Both detectives wore suits, which were more than enough to keep them warm in Santa Barbara’s winter. By all accounts, they should have been able to stroll down the boardwalk without a care in the world, but of course, this was not the case.

“We’re being followed,” grunted Lassiter, glancing at the reflection in a storefront to avoid turning around.

“I know,” his partner responded, a hint of irritation to her voice.

“Then walk faster.”

“I’m walking plenty fast,” hissed O’Hara. “You’re the one who’s ridiculously tall! Also, if we walk faster, that’ll tip them off.”

“If we don’t walk fast, they’ll be on us before we can get out of here.”

“I don’t think we’re getting out of here regardless- new guy, your ten o’clock.”

“I thought you were supposed to be the optimist.”

“There’s a difference between being optimistic and being foolish.”

“That’s fair- oh, shit, two more to your right.”

“Take that alley to the left-” even as Juliet spoke, the five men were rapidly closing in on them. “-Or don’t.” She drove an elbow backwards into the gut of the man approaching her, but was met with stiff kevlar. An arm went around her throat, beginning to cut off her airflow, and she grabbed it. Instead of trying to pull it away, however, she used it to pull herself up and kick both feet into the groin of another assailant. Her forward momentum continued and the man holding her was thrown off balance, allowing Juliet to twist and pull out of his grasp. Unfortunately, this put her on the ground at the mercy of the two thugs not occupied with her partner. She managed to sweep one of the men’s legs out from under him and right herself, though not before a foot landed heavily on her ribcage. Gasping for breath, the detective threw a punch at the first man she’d kicked, sending him stumbling back just far enough for her to reach one of the two men on her partner. Between her on his back and the damage Lassiter has already done, he went down quickly. Sadly, his friends had gotten up.

The pair of detectives stood back to back, fists at the ready. In such close quarters, against rough opponents like these, their guns were all but useless. “You good?” Lassiter asked.

Juliet’s ribs were surely going to hurt like hell when the adrenaline wore off. “Yeah. You?”

“Fine.” They didn’t have time for any further discussion as the tallest of the men lunged for Lassiter. Juliet twisted to help fight him off and was caught off-guard by a fist that collided painfully with her face. She stumbled backwards, feeling a heavy body against her back. Without thinking, Juliet whipped her head backwards and was rewarded with a resounding _crack_ and a sharp pain in her skull. She’s now fighting two men about twice her size, and the constant physical activity was wearing her down. If she and her partner didn’t finish this soon, it would not bode well for them.

The fight was five strong, burly men against two detectives, one far too lanky and scrawny and the other the smallest on the local force. It should have been over within minutes, yet it wasn’t. Lassiter and O’Hara fought fast and hard, twin weapons honed by years on the force and an unshakeable partnership. Slowly but surely, the thugs dropped to the ground. Juliet locked her cuffs onto one of the two men left conscious, then turned to her partner. “We’re gonna need backup to get all of them out of here.”

\/\/\/\/\/

Shawn bounced on the balls of his feet, in a good mood as he and Gus loitered around the SBPD. “Hey, Buzz!” he called. “Gus and I missed you on the boardwalk earlier. Aren’t you normally on the corner by the Italian place?”

“Oh, yeah. This morning I had to help bring a couple of criminals back to the station, though. Apparently there was an altercation near the stationary store- I wasn’t called in until it was over, but Detective O’Hara’s got a pretty nasty black eye.”

Buzz said more after this, but Shawn had stopped listening. Instead, he stood on his toes, searching the bullpen for any sign of his girlfriend, just a small reassurance that she was okay. _What was she wearing this morning? Gray suit? Blue top?_ Thankfully, he caught sight of her following Lassie into the chief’s office. From a distance, all he could tell was that her bun was rather mussed, but she looked fine. _She’s fine,_ he told himself, but somehow, his feet still carried him to her desk, where he sat and anxiously waited for her to leave the office. _Who knew being in a relationship meant this much worrying?_

\/\/\/\/\/\/

Karen raised an eyebrow at the pair in front of her. “I’m having flashbacks to the bar fight incident.”

“That was so not my fault,” Lassiter responded instantly. O’Hara groaned.

“Not this again.”

“Detectives,” Karen interrupted, “That’s not the current issue.”

“Oh, right,” said Lassiter, as if he has just realized he was standing in front of her with a bloody nose and split lip. “We have reason to believe Stroud is aware of our investigation.”

“What makes you say that?”

Her head detective’s tone was dry. “Just a hunch.”

“We’re processing the two attackers who are currently conscious right now,” O’Hara explained, “and it looks like they were part of Stroud’s security team. Based on the three victims we’ve connected to the case so far, this wouldn’t be the first time someone got too close to the truth and Stroud got rid of them.”

Karen nodded, her lips pressing together as she thought through the issue. “I assume all of the perps are in separate cells?”

“They are,” confirmed Lassiter. “Three of them were still out of it last we checked, but I’m not about to give ‘em the chance to match their stories before we get them in the interrogation room.”

“You’re planning on interrogating the conscious ones after we finish here?”

“They should be booked. I’ll take one and O’Hara can take the other. We’ll make ‘em sing.”

“Don’t get cocky, detective,” Karen warned. “I want you two to be especially careful with this case. Take your time, get it right. And to that end-” she held up a hand to silence him. “To that end, you’ll both be interrogating them one at a time. Lassiter starts; going about the interrogation as he sees fit. If they don’t talk within a reasonable amount of time, O’Hara comes in.”

O’Hara blinked. “You want us to do ‘good cop, bad cop’?”

Lassiter’s brow furrowed. “I think you’ve got that backwards.”

Karen smiled. “Do I?”

\/\/\/\/\/\/

Lassiter headed immediately for the interrogation room, but Juliet hesitated. “You go ahead. I’ll be right behind you,” she promised. He gave a noise of acknowledgement and paced off, leaving her free to beeline for her desk.

“Jules,” Shawn said, jumping up from her desk chair. “Are you okay?”

Juliet was caught a bit off guard by the worry in his eyes and the concern in his voice. She sometimes forgot, with all the time Shawn spent at the station, that he wasn’t a cop. He didn’t see things the way she did, the way she’d been trained to. He wasn’t so willing to brush off a black eye because it could’ve been so much worse. “I’m alright,” she assured him, stepping closer than she normally would. He took this for the permission that it was and brought a hand up to gently cup her face, his thumb sweeping over the bruise.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asked quietly.

Her ribs were beginning to throb. “They got a few other hits in." He looked like he wanted to kiss her, but they both knew they couldn’t do that. Instead, Juliet took his hand in hers and brought it gently to her lips. “I’m okay,” she murmured. “I have to go interrogate these bastards now. I’ll see you later, alright?”

It was Shawn’s turn to pull their hands toward him and kiss her knuckles. “Sounds good.”

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The interrogation went exactly as Karen had expected it to. Lassiter ran through the usual questions to no avail, then sat and glowered at the suspect for a good ten minutes before calling O’Hara in. She hit the man with an icy glare and a cold, dangerously quiet “You should really start answering our questions.” He squirmed a bit but in the end, most humans are more afraid of the new than the known. The tiny blonde was not who this man had expected her to be, and that frightened him.

Almost an hour later, Karen once again had two detectives standing in front of her desk. This time, however, there were three more people in the room: Spencer, looking over O’Hara’s shoulder, Guster, next to the psychic, and Henry Spencer, leaning against her door frame. “Shawn doesn’t need to be on this case,” he grunted.

“For once I agree with him,” Lassiter said.

“Aw, c’mon! You guys know I can be helpful. I can help you find this guy, track him down and figure him out with a little bit of this.” He hissed the last word, wiggling his fingers near his temple. “Jules, back me up.”

“I don’t believe Mr. Spencer’s skill set is the one we need for this case. While he is useful for finding people and getting a confession, we already know who’s behind this. At this point what we need is solid evidence that will only be obtained through police work,” O’Hara stated.

Spencer gaped. “That is not what ‘back me up’ means.”

Karen had a sneaking suspicion that O’Hara had her own reasons for not wanting him on the case. As for Henry, he was blatantly trying to protect his son. “You make good points, but we need all the help we can get on this- if Stroud really is targeting our department because of our investigation into him, I’d like to finish that investigation as soon as possible, preferably with Stroud behind bars.”

Henry folded his arms across his chest. “Karen, you hired me to make these calls. I say they’re not on the case.”

“Henry, need I remind you that I am your superior? I can override any decision you make. Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster, welcome to the case.” She turned to O’Hara and Lassiter. “Detectives, you can brief them on the case before you interrogate the last three suspects. All of you can go,” she informed them. The five of them filed out, Henry and Lassiter grumbling as they went. Ideally, they would have much more information within the next two hours.

\/\/\/\/\/\/

In the observation room, Lassiter slammed his palm against the mirrored window, rattling the glass. _“Damnit,”_ he growled. “I can’t _believe_ the nerve of that filthy, rotten, _despicable-”_

“Carlton, calm down,” his partner placated. “We got to the first two guys before they lawyered up, we know their names and their instructions and how they were paid. It’s better than nothing.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he muttered, “but it’s not just the lawyers. They’re gonna be out of here before four pm.”

“They might walk, but not for long,” Juliet says determinedly. “We’ve got all we need to pin this on them before we leave for the day.”

“Not if we want Stroud, we don’t. Sure, we can get these five behind bars, but if we make that move now it’ll set us back in the long run.”

“That is true. Y’know what? We’re not gonna fix this by talking about it. I’m going to look into that bank account.”

“I’ll check the safe deposit box.”

“Take a bomb squad with you.”

“Already on it.”

“In that case, godspeed.”


	2. Breaking and Entering (1 count)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juliet goes home with Shawn after her eventful day at work. This is a very good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first fic I've ever written with any sort of update schedule. Be impressed.

Shawn traded his plaid button-down for a soft t-shirt as he got ready for bed. The sun had set long ago and by now it was going on midnight, but Juliet had been working until maybe an hour ago and he’d waited patiently for her, eager for her company and still a bit worried after the events of earlier that day. They’d ended up at his place, because it was closer, and they were both exhausted. Over a month after Canada, it still shocked Shawn that he could simply spend the night with Juliet O’Hara. Part of him was sure she’d come to her senses any day now, and that would be it. Yet somehow she seemed smitten with him, almost as much so as he was with her. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten so lucky.

The psychic was snapped out of his reverie by the very woman of his thoughts. “Shawn?” Juliet called softly from the other side of the room. “Can you help me get my shirt off?”

Shawn’s suggestive response died in his throat as he caught sight of his girlfriend’s predicament. Juliet was bent at an awkward angle, her shirt pulled up and her arms lifted just above parallel with her shoulders. Her chest rose and fell in shallow movements as if it hurt to breathe, and when he stepped closer, he could see why. The lifted shirt revealed a mottled, purpling bruise that spanned all he could see of her ribcage and disappeared beneath the fabric. He winced in sympathy, sucking a breath through his teeth.

“Jules, you told me they got _a few_ other hits in,” he muttered, carefully pulling the shirt over her arms.

“My ribs are the worst of it,” she gasped. He wondered if she’d been in this much pain all day, or if it was just trying to lift her arms over her head. He got the shirt off, then hesitantly reached for the fully revealed bruise. Shawn knew better than to touch it, but his gaze swept over the exposed bruise. _That’s a boot print,_ he realized, anger boiling in his veins. Shaking it off, he took a deep breath.

“Have you taken any advil or anything? Do you want some ice?”

“I’ll take some advil, but I really just want to go to bed.”

“Yeah, okay. You want me to find it for you? I know where I put it but I couldn’t tell you where that is.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you not keep medicine in your medicine cabinet?”

“Uh, I think the advil’s in the kitchen… I’ll be right back.”

They end up in bed, Shawn playing with Juliet’s hair and Juliet listening to the beat of his heart. “Jules, is it weird that thinking about someone hurting you makes me wish I was the one with police training so I could kick their ass?”

Juliet smiled up at him. “Mmm, no, I don’t think so. If it’s any consolation, I _did_ kick his ass.”

“That is very true.”

“And you’re not the only one who worries,” she continued. “Why do you think I tried to keep you off the case this morning? I don’t want you mixed up in this if you don’t have to be.”

Shawn pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Y’know something, Jules?”

“What?”

“We’re gonna catch this guy even faster with Gus and I helping out. You, me, Gus, even Lassie- we make a good team.”

She smiled again and gave him a kiss. “I think you’re right.”

\/\/\/\/\/\/

If Juliet had thought she would get a decent amount of sleep that night, she was sorely mistaken. Her alarm hadn’t even gone off when the loud sound of her phone ringing pulled her from the warm embrace of sleep (and her boyfriend). “O’Hara,” she muttered into the receiver.

 _”O’Hara, thank god,”_ came her partner’s voice. _”Where are you?”_

“In bed,” she answered carefully. It wasn’t technically a lie.

_”Whose bed?”_

“Excuse me?”

_”Your apartment’s trashed. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say it was Stroud’s guys again- I knew we shouldn’t have let them walk. Your neighbor got home from work and realized someone had shot out your lock, and she called the police.”_

“Shit,” Juliet cursed. “I’m on my way.”

_”Where are you now?”_

“Um… is it really important?”

_”Considering your apartment was broken into and whoever broke in was probably looking for you, yeah. It is.”_

She sighed. “I’m at Shawn’s place.”

_”Shawn Spencer?_

“How many Shawns do we know?”

_”What are you doing at Spencer’s house at six in the morning?”_

“Well, until you called, I was sleeping.”

_”Sleeping?”_

“Are you just going to keep repeating my words back to me in a disbelieving tone of voice? ‘Cause if that’s all that’s gonna happen, I’m hanging up.” Behind her, Shawn laughed.

_Are you sure you haven’t been kidnapped? Is someone holding a gun to your head and forcing you to act normal?”_

“What? No, I- Carlton, is it seriously easier for you to believe I’ve been kidnapped than believe I’m dating Shawn?”

_”You’re what?”_

“Dating. In a relationship.” Her partner made several disbelieving noises on the other end of the phone. “Take your time. I’ll be there in twenty.”

Shawn grinned at her as she got out of bed. “You’re amazing. Completely stellar.”

She smirked. “Get dressed. We’ve got places to be.”

\/\/\/\/\/\/

Lassiter paced back and forth through his partner’s apartment, agitated in all meanings of the word. He prided himself on how nothing could shake him, but it was hard to objectively process a crime scene when said crime scene was his partner’s apartment. He irritably corrected a few techs dealing with the shattered window, then turned at the sound of the door opening. O’Hara entered, with Spencer right behind her. Lassiter glared at the psychic. “Get out.”

“I’m on the case, Lassie,” Spencer said with a shrug. If Lassiter had been paying more attention, he might have found it odd that Spencer wasn’t joking or teasing him as much as usual. If he had been in a better mood, he might have seen Shawn examining every detail of the room. If he had been less oblivious to the personal feelings of those around him, he might have noticed the way Spencer kept looking over his shoulder as if to check that O’Hara was still there. But the head detective only noticed the teasing when it bothered him, and he usually paid as little attention to the psychic as possible, and for years he’d had trouble thinking about the emotions of others. Instead of honing in on any of that, he complained.

“O’Hara, I can’t believe you’re sleeping with him.”

“Carlton, it’s really none of your business.”

“I know, I just- I thought you were smarter than that.”

O’Hara turned to face him, eyebrow raised. The icy disapproval in her eyes gave him a sense of impending doom. “You thought I was _smarter than that?”_

“I- I mean- I would have assumed you knew better-”

“Oh, I’ll tell you one thing I know _very well._ If I had not been at Shawn’s place, if I had not been there _resting_ and _recovering_ from the fistfight we got into, whoever broke in here-” she gestures around the apartment- “would have found what they were looking for. You and Shawn are both trying to keep me safe, and you would do well to remember that you are on the same side. On a slightly unrelated note, I can take care of myself.”

Lassiter has never seen someone passive-aggressively process a crime scene before, but that’s sure as hell what she’s doing. Suitably humbled, he stays quiet for the rest of the morning.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Of course, the one day Gus slept through his alarm was the day everything happened before eight am. He woke peacefully at seven-thirty before realizing he had two missed calls and eleven texts from Shawn, all of which basically said he needed to get to the police station. By the time he arrived, Shawn, Lassie, and Juliet were in the bullpen, examining crime scene photos and debating the usefulness of various items of evidence. Mr. Spencer was there as well. “...A good thing you weren’t at your place last night,” he’s saying. “Why weren’t you there?”

Juliet flushed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I was… elsewhere.” Gus shot a look at Shawn, who smirked and grabbed Gus’ coffee out of his hand.

“Elsewhere,” repeated Mr. Spencer, also looking at Shawn. “Lucky thing. Oh, I’m supposed to tell you four there were three bodies found at the marina this morning. You’ve been instructed to head down to the morgue.”

Juliet and Lassiter exchanged glances. Shawn choked and sputtered on the stolen coffee, then made a face and handed it back to Gus. “What’s in that?”

“Two creams, one sugar, and a lemon, Shawn. Same as always. Every time I tell you you’ll hate it, and every time you ignore me and drink it anyway.”

“Are you morons going to stand there bickering all day or are we heading to the morgue?”

“Coming, Lassie!” Shawn called. Gus tried to lag behind, hopeful that he’d be spared the sight of the dead bodies. If they’d been found in the marina, they would probably look even worse than usual. Unfortunately, Shawn expected him to vanish, and returned quickly, this time dragging him through the station by his arm. Gus sighed.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Juliet managed to ignore Lassiter and Shawn arguing on the way to the morgue. She didn’t pay attention when they shoved each other out of the way to see who could get through the door first. She blocked out the taunts they volleyed back and forth the whole way down the hall. But when an ill-timed elbow from Shawn went into Juliet’s bruised ribs instead of Carlton’s, and when Lassiter sneered an insult at Shawn that was just a bit too strong, she snapped.

“The two of you are behaving like children!” Shawn and Carlton blinked at her in stunned surprise; neither had expected such a strong reaction. They probably thought their dispute had escaped her notice. “You are being foolish and unprofessional,” she continued, “and most of all, you’re being disrespectful. There are two dead people five feet away-” she gestured to the autopsy table- “and you two can’t stop, I don’t know, comparing sizes. This is ridiculous! For the love of god, act your age!” Turning to the bodies and the coroner, she smiled. “Good morning, Woody.”

“Um. Good morning, Detective,” Woody replied nervously. “I’ve identified the victims, although I must say, it would have been much easier had they not been put through the wringer. Literally- I’ve seen injuries inflicted by an old laundry wringer, and they were quite similar to these from the barge.”

Juliet wrinkled her nose. The unpleasant imagery was apparently too much for Gus, who rushed for the bathroom. On her right, Lassiter folded his arms. “So? Who are they?”

“Both of these men were, at the time of their deaths, part of the large network of personal security employed by Ermes Stroud.”

“They’re the men that attacked us.”

“Yes. I’ve cross-referenced their identities with the SBPD databases, and it appears these two men are the ones who revealed information about their employer yesterday.”

Juliet’s lips pressed into a line as she looked at her partner, who was frowning. “Looks like these guys aren’t the ones who broke into my apartment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment or kudos, if you want!


	3. Vandalism/Destruction of Government Property

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the hunt for a connection between the thugs that are after Jules and Lassie and the corrupt local politician, the gan goes undercover.

Upon exiting the morgue, Lassiter found six gouges keyed into the side of his car, effectively ruining the paint job. This did not help his mood.

“It’s a warning,” said O’Hara with a frown. “Maybe we could get forensics to pull particulate evidence, but I doubt it would help even if they found anything.”

Lassiter straightened his tie. “I’ve got a meeting with Stroud’s lawyers at the station in half an hour. I’m not about to waste time with some scientists. Let’s go, O’Hara.” They got into the damaged Crown Vic and headed for the station. Spencer and Guster, in Guster’s ridiculously tiny car, went in the opposite direction.

!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!

“Shawn, you’re crazy! I am not tracking down a bunch of gangsters that have a grudge against the SBPD! Nuh-uh! No way!” 

“Gus, for one thing, they’re not gangsters, they’re hit men; much higher-class. And for another, if you didn’t want to help me find them, you shouldn’t have let me drive.”

“Neither of those statements changes my opinion on the matter! And I didn’t _let_ you drive, you stole the keys out of my pocket and beat me to the driver’s seat.”

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

Gus sighed dramatically and slumped in his seat. “When someone invents a time machine, the first thing I’m going to do is go back in time and tell my younger self that when my mom says I can either help the movers or go introduce myself to the boy next door, I should help the movers.”

“Okay, considering the fact that most of our near-death experiences have been my fault, I’ll give you that one,” Shawn conceded. His brow furrowed as he thought further. “But seriously, the first thing you do with a time machine is give advice to your younger self?”

“What would you do?”

“Eeeeeeeeh… maybe steal my past self’s phone the day of the first Yang case.”

“What? Why?”

“That way I never ask Abigail out. And I have an extra phone when I lose one. Win-win.”

“That also counts as going back to give yourself advice!”

“Totally does not! I never actually speak to myself- which is safer when you consider all the hazards of time travel, by the way- and I’m not giving advice, I’m fixing a problem!”

“I can’t do this with you right now. No more talking until we get wherever the hell we’re going.” Gus huffed and turned to look out the window, sulking.

“Who are you, my dad?” Scoffed Shawn. “We’re here, anyway.”

!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!

“Chief!” Juliet’s head snapped up at the familiar voice from across the bullpen. Shawn was stumbling between the desks, heading for the chief’s office with a hand at his temple. “I’m having a vision!” He exclaimed. “I can see- people- and guns- and there’s music, it’s so loud, it’s everywhere-” Juliet’s nose wrinkled as she enters the office; Shawn had already attracted a crowd, and she had to squeeze past several officers who should have been doing something else. Before she could tell them off, her partner swept through the door behind her, dispelling the group with a hard scowl. He, Juliet, Gus, Henry, and Karen all turned to Shawn, who was now flattened against the wall, his eyes closed and his hands at his head. Juliet raised an eyebrow.

“There’s an exchange going on, there’s money, and instructions, and then people are dying,” he continued loudly. “I think we’ve found who we’re looking for… and potentially a lot of other people.” With a gasp, he collapsed into a chair, seeming to snap out of his trance. “Did that make sense? In my head it just sounded like a lot of explosions.”

Lassiter rolled his eyes, but Juliet stepped forward. ”Did you see the hitmen?”

“Is that who they were? I think you’re right, Jules,” Shawn confirmed, sitting up. He leaned forward to rest his chin on his hands, elbows on his knees. “It was a pretty fancy place, actually, between how nice it was and that street sign that flashed through my head, I could probably tell you where it was.”

“Do you know when this… event will take place, Mr. Spencer?” asked the chief.

“The spirits say tonight. They also say we should dress nicely if we’re gonna try to fit in.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Chief, we’re not seriously going to attempt an undercover operation in dangerous territory just because Spencer had another fit,” Lassiter protested.

“Detective, Mr. Spencer mentioned not only hired killers but those who hire them. If you four can get in there and observe, we may find a link back to Stroud. You’re right that it’s risky, but it would be a win for us if we spotted one of Stroud’s employees.” Karen looked around the room. “Does anyone have a problem with this plan?”

Gus’s hand went up. “Uh, what _is_ the plan?”

!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!

Shawn blinked at the scene in front of him. It was a bit different from what he’d been expecting after overhearing the discussion that morning, but they could make it work. Hopefully.

“Spencer, this is _not_ the upscale establishment you made it out to be,” Lassie growled. “If we go in like this, we’ll stick out like neon signs in the warehouse district.”

“Creative analogy, Lassifrass,” Shawn shot, trying to hide the fact that he was just as stumped. “Obviously we’re overdressed.”

“So how are we going to _fix it?”_

Mercifully, Juliet came to his rescue. “Shawn, give me your jacket,” she ordered, holding out a hand. He stripped, rather confused. She stepped forward, and before he could protest, she was running her hands through his hair. “Gus, lose the sport coat. And unbutton your shirt a bit more.” Shawn had a few things to say about the ruining of his perfect gel job, but the sight of Jules in his jacket and the feel of her hands in his hair was erasing all coherent thought from his mind. She stepped back and admired her handiwork, then nodded. “Carlton…” as his girlfriend turned to survey her partner, Shawn almost laughed. There was no way the uptight detective, with his starched collar and pressed slacks, would ever blend into the loud crush of humans a few yards away. “You’re good. Just, uh, talk about guns and maybe order a whiskey. You pull off ‘hired gunman’ disturbingly well.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t think that was a compliment,” ventured Gus.

“Stuff it, Guster.”

“Alright, here’s the plan,” started Juliet. She paused to apply a darker shade of lipstick, then continued speaking as she ran a hand through her own hair. “Carlton, you find the guys we’re looking for. Ask around, drift through the crowd, all that. Shawn, I think your abilities are best suited to finding Stroud’s staff member here. Gus-” 

Before she finished, Shawn cleared his throat. “Um, I don’t mean to dispute your knowledge of undercover work, but if I’m going to find someone, I need to be where all the people are. Like, _all_ of them.” He smirked as her gaze shifted from him to the dance floor inside, and back to him. Her eyes narrowed. Sure, he wasn’t actually psychic, but he was pretty sure he knew what she was thinking.

_Are you just trying to get me to dance with you?_

He raised an eyebrow, still grinning cockily. _Would you care if I was?_ He knew he’d won when she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Alright, Shawn and I will survey the dance floor. Carlton, Gus…” she was still talking, but Shawn stopped listening. He knew what he was supposed to do, and he found it much more enjoyable to focus on the way Jules looked in that tight black dress, with his jacket over her shoulders and her blonde curls mussed and those blood red lips…

Someone calling his name snapped him out of his thoughts before they grew too steamy. He stared blankly at Gus, having missed the last few minutes of conversation. “Huh?”

“I said, we’re going in.” His best friend took a firm hold of his arm and pulled him towards the door. “If you do something stupid that gets us in trouble because you’re trying to fool around with Juliet, I will not speak to you for a week,” Gus hissed in his ear.

Shawn waved him off. “We’ll be fine, Gus. Go have fun.”

“You and I have very different definitions of ‘fun’.”

Shawn, already following Juliet into the crush of dancers, pretended not to hear him.

!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!

There was a clear divide in the club between who was selling their services and who was here to buy. There were probably some people who were just looking for an honest night of fun, too, but they were vastly outnumbered by the criminals. Maybe ten minutes after arriving, Juliet had already spotted a dozen or so people that she’d last seen in holding cells. She wasn’t too concerned about them tonight, though. Instead, she observed the potential buyers, or tried to; Shawn was very distracting. She twisted in his arms, pressing her lips to his jaw and whispering in his ear. “Shawn,” she warned, “we’re _working.”_

Shawn placed his hands on her hips and pulled her closer. Before she could protest, his lips returned to her neck. “I know,” he replied, “but we’ve gotta blend in anyway, right?” She opened her mouth to argue, but he captured it in a kiss. “Relax, Jules. Lassie’s got eyes on the guys who went after you two; he’ll keep tabs on them. I’m not getting any vibes on Stroud’s guys yet, but the night is young. They’ll get here. All we have to do right now is dance.”

Juliet frowned, still not convinced. “The second we find who we’re looking for, we have to go after them.”

“And we will. But you’re looking, and Gus is looking, and I’m sensing, and there’s nothing yet.” He nipped at her collarbone. “Patience.”

Finally, she relented, lifting his chin with two fingers. He grinned, clearly expecting her to kiss him. She played along for a bit, leaning in until their foreheads were nearly touching. “Let’s dance,” she teased, smirking as she twirled away. Shawn laughed and spun her under his arm. They spent a good fifteen minutes moving to the beat of the music before Shawn brought them to a stop, guiding Juliet towards the bar.

“I see our guy,” he muttered. She nodded, cutting her gaze from her boyfriend to the suspect to make sure they were talking about the same person. Shawn ordered a few drinks to keep their cover, and Juliet quickly filled Gus in. It didn’t take long for Lassiter to come striding in their direction. 

“I think the pseudo-security team is getting skittish. Guster, you and I can get on Stroud’s man. O’Hara, Spencer, follow those thugs.”

Juliet nodded, following his logic. They needed to split up, which meant her with Shawn and Carlton with Gus, and the pair that went after the hitmen were more likely to end up in a rough situation, which Gus would be the least prepared for out of all of them. “Alright then. Shawn, you coming?” Without waiting for his response, she slipped into the crowd and began moving slowly toward the gangsters.

!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!

Nearly twenty minutes later, Lassiter was wrangling Stroud’s man into his still-damaged Crown Vic when O’Hara and Spencer returned. “What the hell happened?” He demanded, noticing Spencer’s limp and the small gash on his partner’s forearm.

“Perhaps,” muses O’Hara, holding her ribs, “we shouldn’t have picked a fight with a gang of hitmen-” she makes a pained sound as Shawn accidentally stumbles into her, further jostling the old injury- “in the middle of a room full of other hitmen.”

Lassiter groaned and rubbed at his face. “Oh, I am so looking forward to reporting to the chief about this absolutely worthless failure of an operation.”

!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!

Karen raised an eyebrow as her motley crew made their way through the bullpen. A glaring Lassiter passed a cuffed but well-dressed man to an officer ready to book him. Guster looked only a bit worse off then when she’d last seen him; his tie was loose and his blazer was nowhere to be seen. O’Hara and Spencer, on the other hand, were a sight to behold. O’Hara wearing Spencer’s leather jacket, with a trail of blood dripping from the sleeve. Spencer almost appeared to be limping, but he didn’t seem too concerned by that. There was a lipstick stain on his shirt collar that looked suspiciously similar to the shade O’Hara was wearing. The chief stood behind her desk, arms folded. “Well?” She asked, as the four of them filed into her office. “What went wrong?”

Guster sighed. Spencer laughed; O’Hara elbowed him. Lassiter was the only one who actually answered her.

“Damn near everything.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this! Leave a comment or kudos, if you'd like- it would make me very happy :)


End file.
